The weekly register. [volume] (Point Pleasant, Va. [W. Va.]) 1862-1909, 1887-07-29
Ingersoil's Tribute 10 Beecher.

T.
his father was one of the wardens
Ia prison with very narrow and
Iclosel grated windows. Under its
wallis were the rayless, hopeless, and
measureless dungeons of the damned,
and on its roof fell the shadow of
Gods eternal frown. In this pris-
ON the creed and catechism were
primers for children. and from a
pure sense of duty their loving
hearts were stained and Scared
with the religion of John Calvin.
In those days the home of an or
thodox minister was an sinquisition
in which babes were tortured for
the good of their souls. Children
then, as now, rebelled against the
ittIilmous ahsnrdities and cruelties
of the creed No Calvinfst was
ever able, unless with blows, to
answer the questions of his child.
Children were raised in what was
called tthe nurture and admonition
of the Lord" that is to say, their
wills were broken or subdued, their
natures deformed and dwarfed, their
desires defeated or destroyed, and
their development arrested or per-
verted. Life was robbed of its
spring, its summer, and its autumn.
Children stepped from the cradle
into the snow. No laughter, no
sunshine, no joyous, free, unburden-
ed days, God, an infinit detective,
watched them from above, and Sa-
tan, with malicious leer, was wait
ing for their souls below. Between
these monsters life was passed.
Infnit consequences were predicated
of the smallest action, and burden
greater than God could bear was
placed upon the heart and brain of
every child. To think, to ask ques-
tions, to doubt, to investigate, were
acts of rebellion. To express pity
for the lost, writhing in the dungeons
below, was simply to give evidence
that the enemy of souls had been
at work within their hearts.
Among all the religions of this
world-from the creed of cannibals
who devoured flesh to that of Cal
vinists who polluted souls-there
is none, there has been none, there
will be none, more utterly heart
less and inhuman than the orthodox
Congregationalism of New England
in the year of grace 1913. 1t de-
spised every natural joy, hated pict-
ures, abhorred statues as lewd and
lustfuf things, execrated music, re-
garded nature us fallen and corrupt,
man as totally depraved, and woman
as somewhat worse. The theater
was the vestibule of perdition, actors
the servants of Satan, and Shaks-
pere a trifing wretch, whose words
were seeds of death. And yet the
virtues found a welcome, cordial and
sincere; duty was done as under
stood; obligations We're discharged;
truth was told; self denial was prac-
ticed for the sake of others; and
hearts were good and true in spite
~ 11ooI- o,o5 oroo1
In this atmosphere of theological
miasma, in this hideous dream of
superstition, in this penitentiary,
moral and austere, this babe first
saw the imprisoned gloom.
The natural desires ungratifed,
the laughter suppressed, the logic
brow-beaten by authority, the hu-
NOR frozen by fear-of many gener-
ations-were in this child, child
destined to rend and wreck the
prisons walls.
Through the grated windows of
his cell this child, this boy, this man,
caught glimpses of the outer world,
of fields and skies. New thoughts
were in his brain, new hopes with
in his heart. Another heaven bent
above his life. There came a rev.
elation of the beautiful and real
Theology grew mean and small.
Nature wooed and won and saved
this mighty soul.
Her countless hands were sowing
seeds within his tropic brain. All
sights and sounds-all colors, forms,
and fragments-were stored with
in the treasury of his mind. His
thoughts were moulded by the
graceful curves of streams, by wind
ing paths in woods, the charm of
quiet country roads, and lanes
grown indistinct with weeds and
grass-by vines that cling and hide
with leaf and flower the crumbling
wallis decay-by cattle standing
in the summer pools like statues of
content.
There was within his words the
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